


On the Occult Implications of Wanking

by allofmyfriendsaregay



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Demon Summoning, Hand Jobs, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Making an Effort (Good Omens), Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 23:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofmyfriendsaregay/pseuds/allofmyfriendsaregay
Summary: Aziraphale has always had a soft spot for a certain demon, the kind that requires occasional self-indulgence.  What he doesn't expect is to be caught red-handed by said demon standing directly in front of him.All in all, everything works out better than expected.





	On the Occult Implications of Wanking

**Author's Note:**

> Watched the miniseries in one day, finished the book in two. I might well have exploded if I didn't get this out of my system.

Aziraphale wiped his brow with his handkerchief and finished straightening the newest additions to the bookshop shelves, swatting away a layer of cobwebs and dust on the lower rack of the biography and historical non-fiction section. He had finally been successful in shooing away the last pesky customers, one of whom had had a worrying eye on a stack of his seventeenth century originals, and was thinking of closing up early. He had been uncharacteristically distracted that day, his mind drifting wistfully to past memories and always settling firmly on thoughts of his eternal companion, Crowley.

He was never fully sure what the other being felt about him, aside from a bond of mutual respect and ease developed between them other the centuries, and even a hint of platonic affection. But Aziraphale did not dare believe that the strength of the demon’s feelings ever matched his own; given his angelic nature he was naturally predisposed to developing strong habits of endearment and fondness. Over the millennia they had known each other, he had become filled with a love for the other man that was palpable in its intensity, and unwaning through every trial they had faced together. It was the small things that did it, whether intentional or not. The way he worked little miracles in Aziraphale’s favor, giving him small gifts and saving his skin more than once or twice. At times it threatened to overwhelm the angel.

Well, it had been a particularly stressful day and Aziraphale was feeling indulgent. He needed an outlet.

Truthfully, self-pleasure was not explicitly prohibited for angels, but in the same way that they did not dance and did not eat, it was something entirely foreign to them. Something terribly human. Aziraphale had always been an unusual angel.

Locking his shop for the day and admitting himself to his provide quarters, Aziraphale allowed his mind to wander. He removed his coat and vest unhurriedly, permitting his fingers to trail more slowly over the buttons than was required, setting the mood for what was to come. After lighting some candles around the room and settling himself in his usual armchair, Aziraphale set his attention and effort to conjuring the necessary anatomy for the task. Aziraphale generally never bothered with manifesting perpetual genitalia, finding they were too much of a hassle for everyday costume. The blank canvas also allowed him to be somewhat creative with his sessions, as he liked to mix things up every now and again.

He knew what he wanted today. With a simple thought he could feel the new length growing in his trousers, and, with yet more thoughts, stiffening to attention. He teased and denied himself as long as he could stand it, his erection straining itself uncomfortably against the starched fabric, before finally undoing the button of his pants and gripping himself firmly.

“Crowley,” he muttered softly to himself, shutting his eyes tightly and being presented with images of the object of his devotion. His coppery hair and imperfect smile, the way he walked entirely from his hips, his keen and beautiful eyes so often unfairly hidden behind dark glass.

“Crowley,” he groaned more loudly, moving his hand slightly faster now as he picked up more momentum. “Oh, Crowley!”

“What is it you need now, ange-? Oh.”

Aziraphale’s eyes snapped open at the sound of the familiar voice and was greeted with the sight of a certain demon, looking thoroughly bewildered and a bit embarrassed, pointedly averting his eyes from the direction of Aziraphale’s crotch.

“Ahem, hmmh. Well… I’ll, um, just be going then. Didn’t intend to interrupt anything,” Crowley stuttered, turning to leave.

“Wait!” Aziraphale cried in slight panic. He wasn’t as concerned about the awkwardness of the affair as the possibility that it might cause some rift between him and the demon. What must Crowley think of him, an angel given into lust? He couldn’t bear the thought of Crowley avoiding him, possibly for a couple hundred years if their past disagreements were any indication. He didn’t need to be loved by the demon, if only their friendship could remain unscathed. “How did you even get here, I mean, why did you come... here?” Aziraphale asked, while moving to cover himself with his coat.

“You know… don’t you know how summoning demons works? You invoke a name three times, while thinking intently about the one you wish to summon.” Crowley blushed slightly at the thought, still not meeting Aziraphale’s eyes. “I mean, for hell’s sake, you have candles lit all over this bloody place.”

“I apologize then. For you having to witness something indecent.”

Crowley smirked. “Indecent? I guess I never expected it from you, but don’t waste your time trying to shame a demon. So far as I’m concerned, nothing wrong with it, perfectly natural.” He emphasized his point with a shrug.

“And the fact that, I suppose there is no denying it, that I was thinking of …you?”

Here Crowley paused. He removed his sunglasses, setting them on a nearby table.

Crowley approached the angel cautiously, as if afraid he would startle like a cornered rabbit. He reached out a hand tentatively and placed it below the other man’s chin, lifting his face toward him and finally meeting his gaze. Aziraphale stopped breathing in the heavy silence.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted… wanted to tempt you, to touch you. But I had never thought a beautiful, lofty angel would ever entertain the thought of … fraternizing with something like me.”

“Crowley, you should know by now I don’t think so low of you.”

Crowley leaned in close, pressing his lips to the angel’s temple. Even at the small contact Aziraphale gasped. Light kisses were trailed along the angel’s cheek, halting infuriatingly just at the corner of his mouth.

“Crowley…”

“Tell me you want it. I need to hear you say it.”

“Crowley, kiss me, please!”

The demon’s lips met his with redoubled force, smooshing their noses against each other. Aziraphale could hear a low growl in the other’s throat as he deftly repositioned himself, straddling the angel’s hips on the chair. Their mouths moved in tandem, lips parting and a sharp tongue licking experimentally into the angel’s mouth. Aziraphale could not contain a deep moan, allowing Crowley yet more access. The previously ignored bulge hidden not-so-inconspicuously under Aziraphale’s coat was now finding tantalizing friction against Crowley’s abdomen.

“Oooh, gracious!”

“If I may?” Crowley inquired suggestively, his yellow eyes blown with desire.

“Please,” Aziraphale sighed, breathless.

Crowley removed the impromptu cover and allowed a moment to admire his angel, the bare skin hinting beneath his partially lifted undershirt and his thighs now completely exposed.

“Excellent craftsmanship,” Crowley teased, weighing the thick member in his hand.

Aziraphale let out a groan of embarrassment, covering his face with his hands.

“No need for that, angel. I think it suits you.”

Crowley licked a long stripe down his palm and grasped the other man’s cock. He began pumping his fist, rubbing his thumb over the head while his other hand brushed cautiously under the hem of the angel’s shirt. Aziraphale’s arms encircled the demon, hands pulling at the fabric of his suit, letting out a sob as he rested his head on the other man’s shoulder. Crowley shushed him sweetly, tracing his teeth along the shell of his ear and moving downward to suck a vein along his neck.

“Ah, Crowley, be careful. It would be unbecoming if I were to retain any… marks.”

“What are you worrying about? It’s not as if you can’t miracle them away. No one would ever know.”

“Yes, but… I would know.”

The tender lilt to the angel’s voice had the demon melting and he became worried of losing him own mind. He let out a strangled hiss and reset his attention to stroking the angel rhythmically, his teeth now ghosting possessively over the pale pink spot on the angel’s neck he had just been tormenting. Aziraphale’s breathing was coming in pants, and he could no longer resist driving his hips into the tight circle of Crowley’s fist. The demon, for his part, had found what he was looking for under Aziraphale’s shirt and was playfully rubbing a nipple with the pads of his fingers.

“Oh, oh, Crowley! I’m close! Don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

It only took another devilish twist of the wrist and whatever magic Crowley was doing with his tongue before Aziraphale was coming over both of their chests with a groan. Crowley worked him through it gently, his other hand coming up to pet the fine hair on the nape of the angel’s neck.

“Hmmm,” Aziraphale sighed dreamily and slumped back against the chair, allowing himself a look at the demon still sitting in his lap. “I dare say, that was lovely, though I’d normally like to avoid making such a mess.” He gave a glance of mild displeasure at the fluid now soiling his undershirt, waving his hand to tidy it and straighten the rest of his clothes. “But what about you? It would be unmannerly for me to leave you in some flustered state. I could, as they say, return the favor?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Crowley whimpered, nodding to the wet spot growing on the front of his pants.

“A pity. I suppose that only means I’ll have to do it some other time.”

Crowley stared at the angel.

“You really mean it then? You want me… like this? No jokes, angel.”

“More than the world, my love.”

Crowley groaned again and leaned into the angel’s chest.

“How about a spot of lunch?” Aziraphale offered.

**Author's Note:**

> First published fic! Super self-indulgent, but let me know what you think. On tumblr here: http://allofmyfriendsaregay.tumblr.com


End file.
